They Won't Hurt Me
by DreamtoDecieve
Summary: I won't let them have the power and they won't hurt me. I made a promise to those I love which I will follow through. How could someone choose between what is worse having the one you love used against use or never seeing the one you love again? This story follows the life of Johanna Mason as she is reaped into the 71st Hunger Games following her life in the arena as well as after.
1. Chapter 1: The Reaping

I was only 8 years old when my brother Rowan was reaped. I can still remember the capitol airhead whose pink fake nails grabbed the folded piece of paper that sentenced my brother to his death. I watched the deep purple lips make the shape as Hestia (that was the escort for District 7) read out his name, Rowan Mason.

I might have been young but I still knew what it meant, the Hunger Games was something that I was brought up with as a child, all of the children in the districts were. I let out a strangled cry and I felt my eyes sting but my father pulled me tight up against him, his warm wood scent calmed me as he leaned down and whispers in my ear "You can't let them hurt you, that gives them the power and you are the powerful one Jo".

It was certainly a weird thing to say to an eight year old and I had no idea what he meant, but it made me wipe away the tears and I just stared at the ridiculous green mop wig that Hestia had plopped on the top of her head. I did not want to see my brother standing on that stage being taken away into the Justice Building for his slaughter. Later when me and my father visited him for goodbyes he told me that he is going to win and that when he comes back we'll be free and I can have a feast and there'll be no need to worry.

But he does not come back and we aren't ever free because he's betrayed by a member of his alliance on the second day of the games during his sleep because he was 'too much of a threat.'

"Ugh!" My rage rips through me and I throw an axe straight and its buried deep into the trunk of the tree about 30 feet away from where I am standing. It was a good shot, I was certainly getting better. After Rowan's games my father took me out and taught me skills with the axe as well as a little bit of knives. After a while I began to practise on my own and found that I started to like it more and more. I guess that it was my own therapy, it released the anger that I always felt was bottled up inside me.

I walk forward to retrieve an axe when a voice startles me.

"Nervous for the reaping today, are you?" I turn around to find the messy dark brown hair and green eyes that are accompanied by a smirk which lets me know it is Linden Barker. He's the only one apart from my father who knows about this, well I don't really know what to call it but I guess 'training'. He's the only one who really knows anything about me.

"No." I answer much too quickly for my liking. "Are you?"

"Yes, and it's pretty obvious you are too. Don't lie to me Jo." I look up into his deep green eyes for a while before my eyes snap away and I pull out my axe from the tree.

"Of course I'm nervous. Today some prissy ditz with the most bizarre bright coloured everything from the capitol is going to pick a piece of paper from some stupid glass bowl, which could condemn me for a fight to the death with 23 others!" I suddenly realise how I had become so loud that practically every living thing within a 100 yard radius had run away in terror. I calm myself and continue, "All the while remembering very clear that it was my brother being called out just eight years ago." I am sixteen now, my brother was fifteen when he was reaped and last year was probably the worst because of that, because my brother was in the exact same position that I was, except instead of going home after the reaping he was ushered off to the capitol.

"Well I better go get changed into my best clothes because if my name gets reaped I definitely want to look good even though soon enough they'll most likely see me covered in mud and blood and possibly dead." I say to Linden.

"See you at the reaping Jo." Linden says as he begins to walk home. I turn and make the familiar trek back to my house. It's just me and my dad now, my mother died giving birth to me. Maybe I would do well in the Hunger Games if I was to be reaped, I am a natural born killer. I smile at my own little joke and open the door to my quaint house. I yell for my dad but it does not take me a long while to figure out that he isn't here, especially with the very limited amount of places he could be in our house. I assume that he's just at Ainsley Barker's (who is Linden's mother) house. My father and Ainsley had been friends for years, even at school apparently they had always hung out in a three with my mother. Ainsley's just about the sweetest woman I have ever met and she's the closet I ever had to what I would imagine a mother to be like. She has two other children along with Linden, Ava who is 10 and Penn who is 12 and there's also Ren who is her husband, who is just as nice an lovely but I don't really see very much because he works long shifts from dawn to dark being a lumberjack.

I especially don't see as much since a few years ago the Capitol put a curfew on District 7 for all to be in their own houses by dark. This was due to a group of lumberjacks that would go into the woods during the night and chop wood off the trees, considering that Mrs Havinn, who was in charge of all axes used by the lumberjacks, most of the time in her old age forgot to the lock the door to the room in which they were kept. The group of lumberjacks continued this for quite a while until one night when the lumberjacks weren't being as careful as they usually were and the peacekeepers followed them and later arrested them for having illegal weapons and for stealing from the capitol. They were later publicly executed along with Mrs Havinn in the town square, the peacekeepers made sure no one tried to removed the stains of their blood as a reminder of how they had stained Panem.

I change into the pale green dress I had laid out this morning and tie my hair up in a simple ponytail. Many people try to make an effort to look nice for the reaping but honestly I just do not care enough about what others think of me to bother. If someone thinks I look scruffy then so be it, I will probably just think that they are a self-obsessed idiot. I leave my house and start making my way over to Linden's house, I mainly just want to see my father before the reaping but I should probably also say a quick good luck and something reassuring to Penn since it is his first year. Although I am usually horrible at trying to say stuff to make people feel better, it is whole lot easier to be mean than it is to be nice. I open the door to Linden's house without even knocking, there's always someone home at their place anyways so usually the door is unlocked.

"Invite yourself in why don't you?" Linden says as I walk in. I just roll my eyes at him and ask whether my father is here. Then Ainsley pops her head out from one of the bedrooms of the house and greets me with her usual warm smile and optimistic "Hello dearie. Oh, you look lovely in that dress." I smile and a slight chuckle comes out of my mouth because I am certainly sure that I do not look lovely, considering that I did not even bother to have a bath even after being in the woods all morning.

"And to answer your question your father is just in here." Ainsley gestures towards the bedroom which she had just walked out of and I follow her hand into the bedroom to find my father kneeling softly talking to a very teary eyed Penn who is sitting on the bed. They both look up at me as I enter.

"Uh, sorry I didn't meant to, um, disrupt, um, well…" Oh great Johanna, just great, you really know how to save the situation.

"Johanna," A small voice coming from Penn calls to me, "Do you still get scared? For the Reaping?"

I walk over to Penn and kneel down beside my father and reply "Yes."

"You do not look very scared to me."

"That's just because I don't want them to know that I fear something that they created because that gives them the power and I can't let them have that."

I can feel my dad's sly smile as he looks to me knowing full and well that those aren't my words, there his. Penn is called by his mother out into the living room because she wants to fix up his hair before we all have to leave to go to the reaping.

"Good luck for the reaping." Is all my father says as he walks out of the bedroom with his knowing smile on. It's simple, and really not all too thoughtful for someone who is in the draw to fight to death but I know what he means by it, he knows that if I really just said what I had said to Penn then no words are necessary, anything he would say to me I have already realised on my own.

I walk with Penn and Linden until it is time for us to split up into our separate groups divided between boys and girls and then into age groups. I make my way over to the sixteen year old girls and slip in to the roped off area. A lot of the girls are just talking amongst themselves but I do not really have anyone to talk to nor want to talk to. At school not a lot of people like me as they find my personality 'cruel'. But I don't care, if people don't like me for who I am then they can go fuc –

"Welcome to the 71st Annual Hunger Games!" The escort for district 7 interrupts my thoughts with her loud booming capitol accent which has been amplified across the whole town square. Her blue hair is swirled up into some kind of curly plop on the top of her head and her dress looks like an upside down cupcake, with way too much icing. I look over to Linden in the boys section and at the exact same time he looks over to me and his deep green eyes flash up to the escort and then back to me and roll as he turns to look at her again. I laugh and a few of the girls around me give me a look like I was the craziest person they have ever seen and I just raise my eyebrows at them.

When I turn back to look at the cupcake she already has her gloved hand inside the bowl and I watch as she grabs the piece of white folded paper pulls it out and walks back over to the microphone in an excruciatingly dramatic way. She opens up the piece of paper and reads out the name.

"Johanna Mason."

I don't need to hear the name to know it's me though, every single girl around me turns their faces displaying sympathy, relief, shock, one girl that I once said that she look like a horse that ran straight into a wall and got its nose knocked in (I assure you I didn't say it to be mean though, it was honestly just the truth) smirked at me as I made my way up to the escort. My father and I had prepared what I had planned to do if I were in fact to get reaped. He had told me that sometimes to let someone have the power can be helpful as long as you always have the strength to take it back. And as I run over these words in my head that I start to cry. But they haven't hurt me and they won't hurt me.


	2. Chapter 2: The Train Ride

I suddenly realise that the boy who I must have been reaped after me has arrogantly thrust his hand out in front of me indicating for me to shake it. I tentatively move my hand close to his and he bridges the gap between us, making what he must think is a very intimidating shake. But I can see the truth behind this act like I can see through glass, he's nothing but another spoiled brat who probably will end up at the bloodbath acting like an idiot and accidentally killing himself with his own sword.

The peacekeepers usher us into the Justice Building, up some stairs and into two separate rooms from which our loved ones will say their last goodbyes, but with a time limit of an hour. How could anyone have decided that an hour would be sufficient enough to say all the things that needed to be said, to leave without a backward glance and the words still on your lips? My father is the first one to visit me.

"If you are going to follow the act we talked about," My father says speaking of how I was supposed to act like a weakling so those in the arena would underestimate me. "You have to follow through all the way. I know that you could win Johanna, but you can't trust anyone, you aren't there to make lifelong friends." His words remind me of Rowan as he slept and never awoke and the large boy whose eyes displayed no show of pity as he slit his throat.

My father held me in a tight hug before he left and Linden walked in, his face in such pain it confused me, he hadn't already written me off as dead, had he?

"You can win, if you just get an axe, you have more determination and drive than any of the Jo." No, he hadn't already written me off as dead, not yet, I smile at him and this time a real tear slips from my eyes. Linden comes closer and wipes it off my face.

"Only ever let them see the vulnerability of you which is fake, so that then they never see the real you." Linden continues, as he wraps his arms around my neck but just as he pulls away his lips kiss mine just lightly. My face scrunches into a frown as I yell, "Why the hell did you do that? Kiss me just before I leave to my death, how very thoughtful of you, seal my fate with a kiss."

"Except you're not going to die!" Linden says strong and steadily. "You are going to live, because I need you to come back to me."

My eyes search his, for whether what he has said and done is actually true, whether the boy that I had grown up with my whole life had turned into a man that loved me. I give up though, deciding that I would rather go into the arena not knowing because I do not want to think about what I feel. Linden then took out some sort of bracelet from his pocket and put it on my wrist. It was a tiny gold painted pinecone made out of some sort of metal threaded on waxed cotton.

"Ainsley said to give this to you for your token, so that you remember who you are in the arena." That's the last thing Linden is able to say before the peacekeepers come in to say that the time for saying goodbye is up. How the hell is the time up, I swear it has only been ten minutes, I keep running through all the things that I should have said, that I had planned to say but never came out of my mouth. The only thought that calms me is that it doesn't matter what I should have said now I will be able to say it when I come back and am a victor. I have to win.

Once we have boarded the train to the Capitol I finally learn that the other tribute's name from district 7 is Grover and it certainly takes all my effort to keep up my act after learning this remembering how Grover is also a name for some sort of skin disease. I respect Grover's parents for naming him something that really does describe him, he's a disease.

It does not take long for me to realise that in order for me to keep my act of being a helpless girl who will not last a day in the games I have to stay as far away from Grover as I can. If I do not I am too afraid that I will mindlessly smash a vase over his head. Within the first few minutes of hearing him talk about how he is so excited about slicing up all the other tributes at the bloodbath I know that I have to kill him in the arena.

I decide to retreat to my room not wanting to hear any more of the big-headed comments about how he's going to have the first kill from Grover. Opening the door to my room I find it no surprise that it is just as lavishly furnished as the rest of the train. There are light golden coloured drapes which are pulled back to reveal a large window placed in the middle of the wall. Looking out of it all I see is open landscape flying past at an alarming rate. These trains from the capitol really do travel fast.

I find myself wondering whether soon enough I will see a large dam indicating that we are passing District 5 or factories processing grain as we pass District 9. I do not really know enough about the positioning of the districts and I certainly would not be able to draw a map of Panem but there are certain things about districts to let you know the basic direction of where they might be. For example District 4 has to be somewhere along the coastline since they are connected to the ocean and also somewhere warm. Whereas in our district, District 7, it gets colder so we are probably up north and far away from District 4.

I walk over to the obnoxiously large bed which has so many luscious sheets and covers and pillows and throws that it overwhelms and I find myself viciously throwing all of them off of the bed so that I can lie peacefully without all of the luxury suffocating me. My moment of peace does not last for long though before it is interrupted by a few soft taps on the door to my room. I try to keep quiet so that whoever is outside may just leave me thinking that I am asleep. Unfortunately whoever it is does not get the memo as they open the door and walk softly into the room.

The young lady who walks in I instantly recognise to be Elmer Hathaway victor of a Hunger Games quite a few years back. I do not remember much that year just that the arena was made completely of ice and snow and most of the tributes died due to hypothermia. In fact I think a ridiculous amount of 17 tributes died on the first day of the games that year. Elmer won because she was the most suited to the environment, she had grown up in a colder climate than the others since she was from District 7 so she basically just outlived them knowing the right things to do in the cold to avoid death. I can't even remember if she killed anyone in the arena.

As she walks over to me I notice she stops with a confused look at all the various things littered on the ground that are more commonly placed on a bed but she ignores it, or at least I think she ignores it and comes over to me with a reassuring smile. I guess my supposed act of being a little girl not capable of killing a fly does not really fit with the tantrum I assume she knows went on in here. I decide that in order for her to believe my cover up I am going have to turn it up a notch. I suddenly start bawling managing to choke out "I don't want to die – "

"Sweetheart, cut the crap, that fragile girl act, isn't working on me. I saw it in your eyes at the reaping and I still see it now, the anger that burns." Elmer cuts me off her voice sharp but with a kind undertone that I do not really understand. My tears stop abruptly as I am aware of what her words mean. I think of everyone else wondering if they can see through me, I remind myself of how clearly I could see through Grover, who's to say I am a much better actor than he is.

"Don't worry, the only reason I see it is because I used to have that exact same look." All the thoughts whizzing in my brain and the fear built up melts away. Good, so everyone else is just as gullible as I thought that they were originally. One thing about that sentences catches me though, the way she says 'used to' it's strange but I am sure that it means nothing, just the way she put it.

"So, are you going to be my mentor for this year?" I ask her glad that I no longer have to pretend to be such a weakling. Her dark brown eyes look straight into mine for a few seconds before she smiles and replies with "Definitely. So as my tribute I demand that you go to the dining carriage and fatten yourself up at dinner." Yes, I'll fatten myself up for slaughter, I think, just like any other animal.

I groan slightly, not ready to see the annoyingly round face of Grover. I make my way out of my room and down the hall, about to open the door to the dining carriage when I remember my act is still real to whoever is in there. I quickly rub my eyes to give the illusion that I have spent the entire time in my room crying and open the door. The first thing I notice before even looking around the room is the smell. Sauces, seasoning and warmth intoxicate my nose with their delicious scent, nothing like I have ever smelt before in District 7. In the middle of the room there is a large dining table clothing with a white flower patterned sheet which is completely covered with food well beyond what those in the Districts would imagine as a feast fit for a king.

I make my way over to the table and sit down, playing on pretending I don't want anyone to notice me by not looking up. Eventually my curiosity gives in to my survival tactics and I see three others at the table. Grover's there picking at his food like his usual senseless pig self, across from me sits Blight, a previous victor who won many years ago. He's old but not as old as his hazy eyes and slumped posture would lead you to believe.

The escort, which I have not yet bothered to learn the name of and probably never will bother, is rambling on about one of her escort friends had originally been in District 5 but this year got a 'once in a lifetime promotion' to District 2. Let's just make it extra clear that those were her words and not mine. Eventually her ridiculous 20 words per second gets too much for me and I just start sobbing intensely.

The escort looks straight at me glaring, obviously annoyed that I interrupted her ravishing story. "Why on earth are you crying?" She demands. Maybe I did not think this through too well, I guess I could blame it on the games again and I open my mouth to do so.

"How can you just act like nothing's wrong when you are in the presence of death itself?" I ask her meekly but with a hint of anger.

"Darling, there is no point in thinking about the arena right now."

"I am not talking about the Hunger Games. I am talking about the roasted chicken that is squashed between your teeth." I then continue to cry but seeing an escape route I ask, "Can I just take some food to my room?"

"No, of course not! You eat here in the carriage or you don't eat at – "

The escort is interrupted by Blight saying that I can of course. I quickly shovel some things onto my plate – including the chicken just as a jab at the escort – and make my way out of the carriage to my room. I hear the shrilly cries of the escort arguing with Blight saying that proper etiquette is essential when one is dining in the Capitol or on Capitol property.

Why would those in the Capitol think that using knives and forks properly and exercising the best of manners is so 'essential' when once a year they all gather together in excitement watching children fight to the death?

I wake up surrounded by darkness to see my brother Rowan sleeping. He's so peaceful when he's asleep, well, I guess everyone is, it's so different when you're sleeping to the real world. I start to lay down to go to sleep again when I see a figure standing over him and leaning down as if to – Suddenly the figure slits Rowan's throat. I scream and his attacker turns his head to me, his eyes black and cold and a sound erupts from him sounding like a growl. He jumps at me but I dodge his lazy attempt get up off the ground and run. I am running for what seems like endless hours upon hours through a forest but every time I look back I still see the figure right at my heels sword in hand aimed directly at me.

I awake to hear the ringing of the escort's voice and the sound of her tiny heels walking up and down the hall. "Rise and shine tributes, we are approaching the Capitol."


End file.
